Eye of the Beholder
by Aelia Douglass
Summary: Benny loves women. All women. Any women. He loves the perfect and the imperfect equally, so when a rather imperfect Courier Six uses the Black Widow Perk to get up to his room... he loves her, too. One Shot. Smut.


This is a response to a prompt on the FalloutKinkMeme.

_Okay, so this f!Courier has Black Widowed her way up to Benny's pad. She's mad as hell and she's not gonna take it anymore, but being not that great with whatever weaponry, she's planning on sexing then shanking the Ben-Man._

_Thing is, she's got some self-esteem issues - specifically related to her naughty pillows. They're small, or spaced too far apart, or unevenly shaped, or all/any combo! Just give me some imperfect mamacitas. So she intends to keep her shirt on._

_But the Ben-Man doesn't just like PERFECT jubblies, he likes ALL girlies, all shapes and sizes. I want Benny to make her feel good about her charlies - so good she lets him motorboat 'em, gives him a titwank (and if she let him come on her tits too, that would be excellent), and in the end...she can't kill him, because well, he made her feel good._

**This story is super smutty. If you don't like boobies, this might not be the story for you.**

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><p>"You comin', babydoll?"<p>

She frowned herself in the mostly-intact mirror, turned sideways, backward, forward. She cupped her breasts, lifted them, felt their heft, and let them fall once more. Her gaze stayed on the mirror, and the woman reflected in it. It was awful. She had bluffed her way this far, but she couldn't face him topless. It had been easier before, with others, because they'd just wanted a quick fuck, or she'd been drunk, or they'd been drunk. It had been quick and dirty and she'd mostly kept her clothes on, or it had been in the dark. Or, there were lots of reasons, but she'd never had to bare herself before.

But Benny was the sort to fuck with the lights on, even when it was a quickie. Maybe _especially _if it was a quickie. She had seen the way he spoke to her chest, had caught him trying to look down her shirt in the elevator. She'd smiled, and angled herself so what he saw was displayed to the best advantage. It hadn't mattered, because she was just going to kill him anyway.

But now all bets were off. But this was New Vegas, and she was about to take a gamble.

She opened the bathroom door, and strode across the room as if she were not aware of her flaws. As if the slight jiggle of her upper thigh did not bother her. As if there was not a slight pad of fat upon her belly. As though her breasts were even, round, and perky. As if they were perfect and attractive without the support of her bra. In her mind's eye, she saw it all. Saw the way they hung down, the way her nipples pointed ever-so-slightly outward, the way one was slightly larger than the other. She had envied other women before, but never as much as she did now.

When she saw the way he stared, the way his hungry gaze fixed upon her bare breasts, she froze. He tore his eyes away from her chest, and smiled at her face sheepishly.

"Baby, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes..." He had shed his jacket and tie already. He stood from where he had been sitting on the bed, and crossed the room, his gaze once more drifting over her body and sticking on her chest. He licked his lips, and seized her hips, pulling her against him. His hands cradled her ass as he claimed her mouth with a kiss.

She hadn't intended to enjoy it, but the man was an expert with his tongue. She melted against him, her arms sliding up and over his shoulders to pull herself closer to him. One hand left her ass, slid up her side, and cupped her breast. She tensed, and he drew back with a frown.

"Is everything copacetic, honey?"

She nodded numbly. She would get through this. She could handle it. His opinion didn't matter because he was going to die at the end anyway. She just needed to get through... this. He seemed to sense something was amiss, and against all expectation, he took time to ensure she was alright.

"Pussycat, you look like you're trying to get through something terrible." She had hoped it would not be _that_ obvious, but apparently her facade was thin. She had never been completely comfortable in her own skin, but it was always worse when someone else got to see it.

"My... breasts." She frowned, tried to put her feelings into words that he might understand. "They're awful."

"There's no such thing as a bad charlie," He cupped one gently in his hand, his eyes locked on hers, holding her attention. "Every dame has a different pair, and they're all special. The things that make them unique are what make them beautiful." He kissed the underside of her breast, the area far more sensitive to his lips than she ever would have guessed. "Let me show you just how wonderful they can be."

He teased her nipple with his fingers and she gasped. His lips quirked upward in a smirk as he brought his other hand up and did the same to the other one. The noise she made in response made his smile grow. He caught her around her waist and pulled her along with him as he backed toward the bed. He sat, and pulled her down so she was straddling him. Her breasts were at face-level. He would see all her flaws, and for all his fine words, he would be disgusted.

She closed her eyes in anticipation. She couldn't bear to see the look on his face when he changed his mind and decided that he was wrong, that hers were awful. Nothing happened. She opened one eye, peeking just in time to see him as he caught her nipple between his lips. The feeling was intense, and shot straight to her core. He sucked a little, and she bit back on a moan.

He seemed to know, because he laved it with his tongue, then sucked one more, and this time it was so intense she did moan. His chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he caught her other breast in his free hand. She felt moisture gathering between her thighs as his touch did wonderfully terrible things to her.

He rubbed his cheek against her breast, a smile upon his face. She felt the roughness of stubble upon her skin, and it made her shiver.

"Give 'em a shake for the Ben-man, will ya?" He said it lightly, teasingly, but the look in his face was gentle.

She fought down the surge of insecurity. If he really was disgusted, he wouldn't be asking her to jiggle her tits, would he? She did her best stripper imitation, and his face lit up. He caught one in each hand, cupped them, and pressed them together before he buried his face between them. She wasn't sure what he was up to until he began to wiggle his face back and forth and make a noise she couldn't begin to describe.

He must have found it satisfying, because what had just been a hard bulge had stiffened considerably, and was tenting his pants in her direction. As strange as it was to realize that the body-part she was least comfortable with was eliciting the most extreme reaction, at least his response was familiar.

She slid off him, and knelt on the floor between his feet. He made short work of his shirt while she unfastened his belt, then his pants, and with his help, got them off. When his erection bobbed free, she smiled up at him, and licked her lips. His gaze zeroed in upon her mouth and he went still. He couldn't stop watching her as she leaned forward, and took the tip into her mouth.

The noise he made was a perfect groan as she slid her lips along his length, taking in more and more of him. His breathing sped with the motion of her mouth. His next reaction was surprising though, as he tugged her mouth off him, and pulled her up onto the bed. He pressed her back and straddled her ribs, adjusting himself until his erection ran up her sternum, between the mounds. He caught her hands in his own, and guided her so she was pressing her breasts together. They were not quite big enough to surround him, but they got reasonably close.

He began to move, and she suddenly understood what he had wanted. The tip was close, so close to her mouth, so she strove to catch it with her lips with each up-stroke. The noises he made were those of an incredibly happy man.

Benny wasn't the sort to leave a girl hanging, it seemed, because his leaned back and slid his fingers between her folds. He found her clit with an impressive precision, and began to stroke the sensitive spot in time with his thrusts. She was closer than she would ever have imagined, and with each thrust, she got closer to climax.

His movement sped, pushing her to orgasm. She came with a small cry, her body tensing and relaxing. She would never have imagined a situation quite like this. His movements were quicker, more erratic, and when he came, it was all over her breasts. He stained her most imperfect body part with a symbol of his satisfaction.

"That was a nice bit of hey-hey, girlie." He said once his breathing slowed. "You're a real ring-a-ding broad!" He climbed off her, reached for a cloth beside his bed, and began tenderly cleaning her off. When he was done, he smiled at her. "Hold me, will ya? I swear you wore me out..."

He stretched out beside her on the bed, and pulled her backside against his front. His arm draped over her waist, and curved upward so his hand could fondle her still-sticky breast. He was warm and comfortable. She relaxed against him and waited for him to sleep.

She had come here to kill him, to take back what he had stolen from her, and use it to chase her past, her identity. But he had given her something, in his own way. She had intended to kill him, but now... now she would let him live.

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><p>This is where my typical "Reviews are Love" statement goes. I really, really love reviews. Whether they're good, bad, or short, it makes me happy to know people are reading my stories.<p> 


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